help wanted

i am an extremely indecisive person. i woke up this morning at 915, and i thought, oh good, i can get ready and go to dance class. so i wash my face, get dressed, put on make up, then i start to doubt how much i want to go. i start thinking about how long it's been since i've been, and how i've been sick, and how billy might call me later and want to get a burrito, and how i dont' want to answer any questions about how my life is going (does this usually mean you don't like how your life is going?). so i pace through my apartment, purse on arm, water bottle filled, ready to leave. then i sit on the couch and think about how i will feel guilty if i don't go. and i think--how guilty really? will the guilty feel worse or the dance class itself? i ended up eating yogurt, bananas, and granola watching arsnic and old lace wishing cary grant were still alive and young and charming so he could be my boyfriend. the guilt wasn't so bad.

i did get that burrito with billy.

then this afternoon. i do the same thing with yoga. i get ready to go. i think about how i'm sick, but think it will be good, sweat it out, you know. so i get in my car and i drive and i'm almost there, and i miss my exit, and then it's all blown to bits. do i really want to go? it's not even that i'll be late now it's just do i really want to go? i could go home and read and drink a beer. so i light up a cigarette and turn up mates of state and drive home with my windows down wondering what it wrong with me. i think of calling someone who knows me and asking them if i need to see a therapist. but i don't call. i don't want any outsiders' opinions.

i think the job situation is the same way. i go back and forth between thinking about how badly i want a job to thinking that i never want a job. that having a job will suck. at this point it is something i can hardly wrap my head around. a job. i was at this group interview and the whole time i was fixated on my interviewer. is he really happy? how does he sleep at night? this is his life, is that how he wanted it? what does he do for fun? how does he talk about his job to other people?

there was a manager i used to work with at the movie theater. her work keys were on this plain, plastic key chain but she had taped this note on it that said, "i am not my job." with a job like, manager of movie theater, i think it is easy to believe this. but when you have a real job, a job where you actually have to work: you are your job. but not very deep down i know that isn't true either. i think of my friends and their various and disparate jobs, they aren't their jobs. they are my friends. but when my parents ask about them, oh how is he doing? where is he working? they assign some meaning to their jobs. when really jobs are meaningless. they are money.

maybe too many things are losing meaning to me. or maybe i just need to stop taking myself so god damn serious.

for real.